Reborn Heiress: Reclaiming My Monster Billionaire

Coretta stumbled forward, chest hitting nothing but warm California breeze. Her arms remained locked in a ridiculous, empty circle. Her teeth clicked together as her jaw snapped shut. For one agonizing heartbeat, she teetered off-balance in front of the entire staff.

Ginny straightened, her hand dropping from the dress strap. She looked at Coretta's awkward, frozen posture with cold, dead eyes.

Coretta dropped her arms. A mottled flush of humiliated red crawled up her neck and bloomed across her cheeks. She forced a high, breathy laugh and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers.

"Oh, look at you," Coretta said, her voice stretched tight. "Your skin is so... bare. Didn't you like the makeup artist I sent? I just wanted you to look your best."

Ginny didn't answer. She just stared, letting the silence thicken and press down on Coretta's shoulders like a physical weight.

Up on the marble landing, Anjanette released the maid's arm. She took a shaky step forward, her eyes fixed on Ginny, her lips moving soundlessly.

"My baby," Anjanette whispered. Her voice cracked like dry paper. She took another step.

Suddenly, Anjanette stopped. Her thin hands flew to her chest, clawing at the silk of her blouse. Her knuckles whitened. Her already-pale face rapidly drained to a terrifying, purplish-blue. Her mouth stretched open, gasping for air like a fish thrown onto dry ground. No sound came.

Anjanette's knees buckled. She pitched forward, falling straight toward the hard marble floor.

The maids screamed.

Ginny moved before anyone else could even process the fall. She sprinted up the steps, cheap heels clacking in rapid staccato. She hit the marble landing and slid onto her knees, skidding the last two feet on her shins.

Her arms shot out and caught Anjanette's upper body inches before her skull cracked against the stone.

Ginny laid her mother flat on her back. Anjanette's chest heaved in rapid, shallow spasms. Her eyes were rolling back, showing white.

Ginny's hands flew to Anjanette's collar. She fisted the silk and ripped it open, buttons scattering across the marble. Airway clear.

"Inhaler! Now!" Ginny roared at the paralyzed maids.

Nobody moved. They stood frozen, mouths hanging open.

Ginny didn't waste another second. She pressed her right thumb hard into the hollow at the base of Anjanette's throat. Her left thumb drove into the center of her mother's chest, directly on the sternum. She applied deep, calculated pressure to the acupressure points, forcing the spasming airway muscles to unlock.

"Breathe with me," Ginny commanded, her voice sharp as a whip crack. "In. Out."

The heavy, rhythmic thump of wood striking marble echoed from the dark hallway inside the mansion.

Matilda, the matriarch of the Steele family, stalked out onto the porch. She leaned heavily on a solid gold-headed cane. Her face was a roadmap of deep, disapproving wrinkles and permanent scowls. Her hooded, reptilian eyes swept over the chaotic scene and locked onto Ginny kneeling over her daughter-in-law.

Matilda's face contorted into a mask of absolute disgust. She raised her cane and pointed the gold tip directly at Ginny's face.

"Get your filthy hands off her!" Matilda barked, her voice like grinding stones. "You just walked through the door, and already you're trying to kill her. You clumsy, cursed child."

Iris, Matilda's personal maid, slithered out from behind the old woman. She leaned close to Matilda's ear, her thin lips barely moving.

"The psychic warned us, Madam," Iris whispered, pitched loud enough for every servant to hear. "He said the girl born on that day would bring a dark cloud over this house. A jinx."

Matilda's breath caught. A sharp, sudden pain stabbed through her chest. Her hand trembled on the cane. For one splintered moment, the girl's cold, bottomless gaze locked onto hers, and the fine hairs on the old woman's arms stood rigid. It wasn't fear—not quite—but a primal, deeply unsettling sense of something incredibly dangerous standing entirely out of place in her carefully controlled domain. The shock curdled instantly into pure, unadulterated fury. She would not step back.

"I knew it. I knew I shouldn't have let my son bring this trash back." She turned her head, jaw tight. "Thomas! Get this jinx away from Anjanette!"

The head butler, a broad-shouldered slab of a man, stepped forward. He reached down and clamped his massive hand onto Ginny's shoulder, thick fingers digging painfully into her collarbone.

"Come along, miss," Thomas grunted, hauling upward.

Ginny didn't look up. Her right hand shot from Anjanette's chest and locked onto Thomas's thick wrist. Her thumb found the nerve cluster between the bones. She squeezed with brutal, surgical precision and twisted her body weight against the joint.

Thomas let out a strangled yell. His knees buckled, and he stumbled backward, clutching his wrist to his chest, face twisted in shock.

Ginny looked down. Anjanette's chest was rising and falling in steadier rhythms. The purple hue was fading from her lips. The acupressure had bought her time.

Ginny rose slowly to her feet. She wiped her hands on the cheap pink sequins of her dress.

She turned and looked directly into Matilda's eyes.

She didn't say a word. She just stared. Her dark eyes were bottomless, radiating the cold, lethal intent she'd honed over a decade of annihilating her enemies.

The wail of an ambulance siren cut through the tension. The estate's private medical team surged up the steps, carrying a stretcher and an oxygen tank. They pushed past Ginny and clamped the mask over Anjanette's face.

Matilda slammed her cane against the marble to cover the tremble in her hand.

"Get her out of my sight!" Matilda screeched, pointing a shaking, bony finger at Ginny. "Thomas, take her to the top floor. I don't want to see her face again today!"